Manorian Drabbles (Manon x Dorian)
by IonicPaladin
Summary: A collection of Manorian short stories/drabbles written from prompts/requests given by readers. They cover a variety of genres and scenarios ranging from fluff to angst. Manon x Dorian. Manorian.
1. My mind is a dark place

_**Author's Note:** I have gotten some drabble requests from various sites recently so I have decided to post the drabbles I wrote unto this site. These are all under 1k words and don't necessarily fit together into a coherent plot. You can request a drabble by giving me a prompt in the review section or by sending me a PM/an ask on tumblr. I don't promise to get through all of them, but you might see your request written out in the future. Thank you for your continued support and I hope you enjoy!_

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 **"** **My mind is a dark place. You don't want to be there."**

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The silence was jarring as they stared at each other, both filthy, tired, and raw after the battle that had taken place not a few hours before. On request of their respective seconds, Manon and Dorian had fallen back, their safety in the future campaigns priority over the result of this skirmish. The King of Adarlan had been the first to agree, knowing that losing one battle against Erawan wasn't the end of the world…yet, but that having an important figurehead perish in it could very well be.

It had taken much more to convince Manon to fall back, her iron teeth flashing at even the mere thought of running from a fight. But between Asterin, Sorrel, Dorian and even Chaol she was eventually persuaded into backing off. Which led them both into the same path, on Abraxos and far away from the battle. Alone, only because Manon had threatened disembowelment if her sentinels even offered to have someone go with her in an effort to protect them.

Dorian stared at the fire crackling between them as the sun set to their left. He couldn't hear or smell anything, but both Manon and Abraxos stared to the north, where the battle was still going on.

Dorian sighed as he passed a hand through his messy hair. "Maybe we should get something to eat," he offered.

Abraxos was the one who looked at him, the wyvern's large body coiled around Manon like a leathery shield. The witch seemed to have not heard him. "Manon?" He tried once more.

She glanced at him, but it was a quick look. "If you're hungry go hunt."

The King pouted, crossing his arms as the temperature lowered. "Abraxos, you want to join me?"

He didn't expect the wyvern to actually do so, but the look Abraxos gave him was enough to warrant at least some level of understanding that had Dorian speaking. "Can he understand us?"

Manon blinked and her heavy gaze settled on the King again, her gold eyes glinting against the flame of the campfire. "Yes."

The direct answer surprised him, but since she was paying attention to him, Dorian figured having a conversation was better than to let their minds wander in a negative direction. "So do you tell him all your secrets?"

Abraxos lowered his head next to where Manon was seating, his large eyes closing. Dorian knew better than to believe he was sleeping. "Would you?"

Rubbing his sore neck with his hand, Dorian thought it over. "I don't think I would. My thoughts need to remain in my head."

"Bottling up emotions isn't healthy," she told him, but he could sense the tone in her voice. She didn't believe that for a second.

"My mind is a dark place. You don't want to be there, or anyone else for that matter, including Abraxos."

"Do you think you are the only one with dark thoughts, princeling?"

They stared at each other for a long moment. "No, but I think you understand what I mean."

She looked away again, toward the battle. "Do you think monsters are born or made?"

The King followed her gaze, the darkness of the night spread over the battlefield and soon it would be too dark for him to even make out the trees. "That's complicated," he answered, "Erawan was born evil, but us?" At the last word she turned to him and he met her eyes steadily. "Even at our worst, I don't think we were monsters."

"You say your mind is a dark place?" She asked with a heated look. "My life is a dark place, decades upon decades of nothing but darkness."

"That doesn't make you a monster."

The witch recoiled, her eyes narrowing. "You don't me, Dorian."

"That may be true, but from what I've gathered these past few weeks, you are anything but."

"Did you come to that conclusion before or after we bedded each other?"

His chuckle was broken and dry, but it still garnered a softening of her features. "I think," he finally said, "that even _if_ monsters are born, they can change or be changed."

Abraxos tilted his head toward Manon, and the witch stroked his scarred head absentmindedly. "Perhaps," she whispered and they both looked up as the moon shined overhead.

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Thank you for reading!


	2. What do you mean you're fine?

**What do you mean you're fine? You're not fine!**

Manon shook her head as she walked back to the war tent that had been set aside for her during their time in the southern part of Terrasen. The witch covens and soldiers underneath her were in the process of recovering from a rather bad fight, and both Manon and Dorian (who was in charge of the other half of the troops) decided to take an extra day of rest.

The problem was that ilken attacked the camp the very next day and though most survived, it had cost them supplies and soldiers, not to mention two wyverns. Angrily, Manon was thinking of the different decisions she could make to ensure no more of her troops were lost when she caught a strange scent in the air.

Strange because she recognized it.

Blood.

The witch stopped her walking, her head facing the direction in which the scent was coming from. Curiously, she followed it, and she only stopped when she neared the entrance to the King's tent. The Queen played with the thought of whether or not she should go in, but figured they had known each other well enough to warrant a surprise entrance.

Manon had not been prepared for what she saw.

"It's not as bad as it looks."

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Dorian, shirtless on the floor, bleeding profusely from a wound to his side. A graze of a blade from what she could see, but his magic didn't seem to be healing it correctly. She didn't give him time to speak again. "I'm getting a healer."

"No."

Though his magic wasn't healing the wound correctly, he had no trouble holding her in place with those stupid phantom hands. "If you die," she snapped, "we lose this war."

"The healers are overworked as it is," he gritted out and she knew the exertion from the magic was not helping his condition. "I'm fine."

"What do you mean you're fine?" She asked, "You are not fine." When the King only huffed, Manon growled. "Let me help you at least."

Dorian released her with a grunt and she went to him in disapproval, grabbing the stitches and bandages next to him. "Take your hand away," she ordered. He did so slowly, his eyes on her face.

It was a clean cut, not too deep, but laced with some kind of poison as it bled out like it had happened five minutes ago. "This is going to hurt," she told him and his answer was a pathetic nod. The witch gave him a piece of cloth to bite unto before she splashed his wound with alcohol.

He screamed, muffled by the cloth, and grabbed unto her arm, lowering his head unto her shoulder while she cleaned out the cut. "Raise your arm," she told him and Dorian grunted as he did so, placing his arm on the cot behind him.

When she was finally done stitching and dressing the wound she made a move to step away, but his hold on her kept her from it. "I'm done," she said while she grabbed the remaining items and placed them back in the box.

"Thank you," he muttered.

"It would have been easier to call a healer."

Dorian moaned a bit and she was distracted by the sound, even though the context was completely different than what she was imagining. "I mean it, thank you."

Ignoring his words, Manon went for his back, hooking her arm there. "Let's get you on the bed."

His grunt was almost a chuckle. "Will you use chains?"

Despite being annoyed at him, and the way he was holding unto her, Manon still smiled. "As tempting as seeing you chained might be…I don't think you'd enjoy the loss of control."

The King's laugh was cut short with a long groan.

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Btw, the last comment was the same thing Dorian told Manon back on the boat, that's why he laughed.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

 **Guest/Guest** : Lovely reviews

 **RubyAngelFire** : I sometimes incorporate little things that happened in the books, I'm glad you've noticed

 **Spirit** : If I give them a second child it's going to turn into a full-fledged one-shot/fic. I do have something cooking though ;]


	3. Don't you dare let go!

**Warning: Some language**

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" ** _Abraxos!_** "

Dorian grunted as he tried to hold on to the roots of a large redwood tree that was on the side of the cliff's edge, blinking out the water falling on his eyes as he tried to gauge how far down they were from the top. Manon's screaming was drowned out by the thunder overhead and the King didn't want to look down to see what had happened to the soft-hearted wyvern after they were shot down from the sky.

Only the burst of his magic had saved them from suffering the same fate, but it had tired him fully and only his mortal strength kept them from falling now. His ears caught the crack of the root he was holding on and panic settled in, deep and unforgiving. "Manon!"

But she wasn't paying attention to him, her hand going slack in his. " _No! Don't let go, Manon!_ "

She was sobbing, he could hear it over the rain, crying for the wyvern whose crumbled body lay on the rocks below. Dorian spared it only a glance, his heart hurting for her and for Abraxos. His grip on her wrist was tight as he breathed out, opening his mouth to let out a yell, swallowing his ragged breathing.

With a roar he pulled Manon up. "Grab unto me!"

But she wasn't looking at him, didn't seem to care that they were going to die. He felt her grip loosen and the shock made what little magic was left in his system seize up. "Manon! Don't do it! **_Don't you dare fucking let go!_** Abraxos didn't want this!"

The witches' response was to grab on and Dorian groaned in relief. "Come on," he muttered as he once again lifted her up, feeling as her hand came up to wrap around his neck, her breathing matching his, ragged and torn against his ear. She didn't weigh much, but his hand was cramping already.

A second crack from the root.

But before his hand slipped, Manon had grabbed another root, this one closer to the cliff, holding his wrist still, their hands stiff as they held each other tightly. She didn't have to say anything for him to let go and be the one dangling now. The King couldn't help but to look at the wet ground, as the lightning illuminated the broken body below, how the blood flowed down the rocks and mixed with the rainwater.

Dorian wiped away the dirt and blood on his face, the tears mixing in with the rain as he was lifted and soon they were on more solid ground, a top the roots of the tree, far below the cliff's edge, but safe enough for now.

"I'm sorry," he whispered as they both breathed heavily. "I'm so sorry."

Manon's face was hard, droplets rolling down her face as if compensating for her tears. As if the whole world was crying too. She just shook her head, once, twice…and then lowered it unto the muddy ground into her hands. Bowing for a mount she'd never see again. Who had sacrificed his life in order to ensure their lives.

Dorian dropped down unto his behind, his back against the bark of the tree, not caring that he was soaked through or of how cold it was or how the much stuck to him.

He had promised himself that he wouldn't cry again, not after all that had happened, not until this war was done.

But the tears escaped anyway, especially as Manon raised her head once more, her gold eyes narrowed as her expression carried with it insurmountable pain. The King of Adarlan cried…as the witch's scream tore through the heavens.

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I've been neglecting this series so I decided to post a couple of chapters at the same time.

Spirit - Thanks for the request! I have some ideas for a second child fic.

I hope you enjoyed!


	4. What happened?

**Warning: Some strong language**

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"Shit, fuck," Dorian Haviliard muttered to himself as he climbed up the fire escape of a rundown apartment building in the middle of the city. It was way past midnight and the brilliant plan he had come up with failed miserably. His pack was full of jewels, but he had still failed. Soon enough the media would be all over it, pouring once more over the 'masked jewel thief' that had taken the 'world by storm.' Or at least New York City.

Silently, the sapphire-eyed young man clicked open the lock to the window, lifting the shade up easily enough for him to squeeze through. He made no sound as he entered the dark room, and let himself smile a bit when he lowered the window again.

The lamp light switched on and Dorian yelped as he turned around, cringing at the look his girlfriend was giving him. "Hey, moonshine," he greeted, trying to sound as relaxed as he wasn't.

Manon's eyes narrowed as she looked over him, still shrouded in darkness. "I thought we talked about this."

Dorian grunted a bit as he placed down his pack on the nearby couch, his shoulder still hurt from the disaster that was the robbery. "Relax, love, I got us enough to pay rent for the next year." That was true, considering they were already three months behind.

She glared and Dorian stepped forward into the lamp light. Her eyes widened immediately. "What the hell happened to you and whose blood is that?"

Blood?

Dorian looked down at his clothes and softly cursed. "Don't panic-"

"Are you trying to get yourself killed?" She chastised, going for his arm. "Take off your clothes right now."

Knowing disagreeing with her was only going to make her more upset, he gingerly took off his dark jacket and pants, and heard her sigh in relief when she noticed he was unhurt. "I'm sorry," he blurted out as she took the clothes and placed them in a black trash bag.

"You always say that, bookworm."

Dorian glanced at the pack, knowing that despite the money he had gained, he was risking a lot. "I know I always make empty promises, Manon, but I swear I'm not trying something like this again." And that was the truth.

He had gone for a bigger shop today, the largest sting since he began stealing jewels when he was fifteen. This specific jewelry shop was located on the third floor of a large shopping mall and though Dorian had managed to get into the store without trouble, the alarm had taken a whole thirty extra seconds to crack.

As such, a guard had spotted him, and though Dorian didn't kill him, the man had fallen back against a glass case and cut himself on it. The blood on Dorian had been from the guard attempting to stop him. Clearly, he had failed, but the young man had not gotten out unscathed or as unseen as he wanted too. This all caused him to law low for two extra hours than he planned, which is why he arrived home so late.

"You're going to get yourself killed," Manon told him and, bless her, she just stared at him. No one else would take a thief for a boyfriend, less of all live with him.

"I'll lay low for a while." Her frown deepened and he felt the urge to go for her waist. "I made a miscalculation, I won't fuck things up again."

She leaned forward to hug him, but he could feel how tense she was. "Just promise to tell me next time, please."

Stroking her hair, Dorian nodded. "I'm sorry, I will."

"I'm not done with this conversation, but I'm just glad you're here."

He closed his eyes, lowering his face to her neck. "I understand."

"Then let's go to bed."

He smiled and kissed her cheek. "Gladly, moonshine."

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	5. It's okay to hurt and breakdown

Manon Blackbeak, Queen of the Southern Wastes and more recently, Adarlan, controlled her expression as she tried not to bare her teeth at the lord that was talking. Lord Brunswick of Seram, a territory three days' horse-ride from Rifthhold and which controlled a good half of all the grain across the country.

Safe to say, Lord Brunswick did not like the King, and Dorian's feelings on the Lord were not much different. It had already been a terrible first hour and it did not seem like it would get any better or that any agreements would be reached. "We shall keep paying the same amount as the past six months," Dorian reinterred for what seemed like the tenth time that morning.

"Lady Hally's fields have not given as good a crop as mine, I deserve more in exchange."

A greedy man, that was what he was. The older man already gained enough money to feed a small kingdom for ten years with what the crown had paid him and Dorian had previously agreed to his rates, high as they were, because their country was in need of food after the war with the Valg.

Manon could feel Dorian seething, though he seemed rather content on the outside, the only way to tell he was furious was the cold breeze that brushed against her hand, an outlet of release for his abyss of power. The Witch Queen placed her hand under her chin, appearing bored as the discussion went on. She rarely participated when it came to delegating with Adarlan's many Lords and Ladies, but her presence alone made them warry and more often than not…malleable.

Brunswick was no such type, scoffing at her when he first entered the throne room even when he bowed and said the appropriate heralds. Manon was a new Queen, and many were upset at the King's choice, despite the fact that their marriage brought in an alliance between the Wastes and Adarlan.

It wasn't until Brunswick asked for three times the price for his crops that Manon finally spoke. "Perhaps we should use the crops from Rhianion. The price would certainly be significantly less." Rhianion was a new territory specifically made for farming in the Wastes, close to the border of Adarlan for just this reason. If Brunswick did not lower his rates, then grain would be shipped. It would be expensive to do so, but much cheaper than what he asked.

Annoying, but a necessity with how stubborn this Lord was.

Everyone's eyes fell on her, but the cool wind against her fingers let her know her interruption was appreciated. Lord Brunswick and his two children, a man and a woman, switched between her and the King in shock.

"You cannot expect-"

Manon sat up, her crown a weight on her head as she gave them all a small smile. "I understand your concern with the quality of your grain. If it is worth so much, then sell it to Terrasen or Ellwye. If anything, the profits will benefit Adarlan. But for our people and our kingdom, we not only want the best when it comes to quality, but we want it to be affordable. You wouldn't want our people to starve because of unnecessary price hikes would you, Lord Brunswick?"

The old man had gone red in the face, his full beard bristling as he turned to the King in question. Dorian merely shrugged, signaling back to Manon. "I suppose," the man said after some time, "we could work up a more…comfortable price."

The witch kept her smile, fluttering her eyes as she leaned forward, catching the admiring look from the son as she spoke. "That is all we want."

…

A few hours later, Manon had just walked into her shared rooms with Dorian when she spotted the King on the foot of their bed rubbing his face with his hands, looking like he hadn't slept in days.

"Dorian."

He snapped to attention, smiling at her. "Hello, witchling." Even his voice was tainted with exhaustion and the smile he gave her was a bare lift of his lips.

It took her one look to know what she wanted to say. "Maybe you should postpone the next meeting." It was set to be in an hour, but the Lady who requested it could wait until tomorrow.

"I'm fine, after the meeting I'll…rest."

She knew he was lying, both to her and to himself. Only paperwork awaited him when he finished, and they both knew he was too responsible to let it sit for more than it should be, despite his health.

"I could attend the meeting for you and fill in your paperwork too." As Queen she was allowed to do so and he truly appeared like he needed the break.

"No, love, it's alright. You have your own work to worry about." His office had two desks now, and hers was almost as full as his with paperwork from the Wastes. But witches had more patience than humans and her people were more fearful of their monarch.

"Dorian." He breathed out as she approached and a sniff of the air gave her all the information she needed. "You're stressed," she muttered as she sat next to him. "That's not healthy."

"I need to be strong for my people. They expect me to do well." He went for her hand, tangling their fingers. But there was a tremor in his voice and Manon could see the forming grooves in his eyes.

"You and I both know that it's okay to hurt and breakdown. You don't have to be strong all the time," she said.

He groaned a bit at the statement and she let him lean his head on her shoulder. "This is so hard."

"I know."

"I feel like I don't even have time to think sometimes."

"Which is why you should take a break." Manon faced him though all she could see was his dark hair. "Your people will understand. You've done enough as is."

Dorian slowly lifted his head, meeting her gold eyes with his own blue ones. "This is exactly why I married you, you know."

She let out a humored breath before she faced him, her face hovering close to his. "Perhaps we both need a bit of a break."

He licked his lips, entranced. "You think? And what does my Queen have in mind as a _relaxing_ activity?"

Manon let out a smirk, her hands moving toward his waist. "I may have a few ideas."

The answer he gave her was to meet their lips.

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Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed!


	6. I just want to be numb

**"I just want to be numb, I don't want to feel anything."**

…

Dorian held the letter in his hand. It had been written hastily in the middle of the night and the first thing the King had thought when he saw it was that her handwriting was as beautiful as her face. Neat and easy to understand, the words written with a slight tilt to the letters. It had been short and to the point, as expected if she had written it.

What the King of Adarlan had not been prepared to see was the actual message.

"So she left you?" Chaol muttered as they both sat in front of the warm fireplace. The First Hand was still wearing enough clothing to brave a blizzard due to Dorian's magic flailing out, ice covering the whole room, making their breaths come out in clouds.

"I don't understand," Dorian muttered. He had thought it had gone so well yesterday. When he'd finally told her his feelings, what he wanted for them both.

"I told you the witch was trouble," his friend said, the only one at this moment who could even stand in the same room as the King.

Manon had kissed him, had spent the next few hours after the confession in his bed. And then he had woken up alone…and there had been a letter neatly placed on the pillow next to him. "I hate this," Dorian admitted. Just when he was ready to face his feelings, just when he let himself love again…

"I just want to be numb, I don't want to feel anything." Especially not now, especially with this letter. Chaol didn't speak, but his presence was enough for Dorian, at least for the moment.

Where had he gone wrong? After so many months, after this past year of them being together. Of him giving her flowers and having her smile. Of her getting him flying leathers and kissing his cheek. "I shouldn't have told her," Dorian heard himself say, "I should have kept it to myself."

They had been fine with what they had. Dorian shouldn't have been so selfish, particularly because it was with Manon. Because even though she'd accepted his hugs and sometimes whispered sweet words back, he should have kept those three words to himself. Should have not told her that he wanted to marry her.

It would have hurt him to keep silent on it, knowing she didn't return his feelings, but it would have been better than this.

Than his heart breaking for the last time.

Because he was not doing this again.

She had been the one, and he didn't want to move on.

"You said she stayed after you told her," Chaol mumbled.

The dry tear streaks on his face stung as Dorian turned to his friend. "She did."

"You know I don't like her," the other man said, "you know how I felt about all this." Dorian looked at the dying fire, wanting it to be as barren and ashen as he felt. "But I wanted you to be happy and I still want that for you."

Dorian _had_ been happy. And it still shocked him how he had felt like he could face the future like it was nothing and now wanted only for it all to stop.

"You should go after her."

A shiver went through the King. "What?" He whispered.

"From what little I know of her, the witch might be scared."

Scared? "She isn't afraid of anything," Dorian answered, his voice dead and monotone.

"From the letter, she seems to be afraid of loving you." Even the flames of the dying fire stilled as the blue-eyed man turned to his closest friend. Chaol raised an eyebrow as he met eyes with Dorian. "You know where she is." A pause. "Go get her."

"She doesn't want anything to do with me," the King said, his voice tinted with anger as he raised the letter.

"I don't think that's true."

Dorian breathed out while he passed a hand through his hair. "So what? I go find her and then what? What do I say?"

"Only you know that."

Frustrated and furious, Dorian blew out the fire, plunging the room into semi-darkness as the sun set outside the windows. "What if she doesn't want to talk to me? What if she throws me out?"

He could see Chaol's silhouette shift. "Then at least you know you tried."

The King thought about it for a bit, feeling as his heartbeat quickened, as his conviction rose. "Would you cover for me while I was gone?"

Chaol sighed. "Don't worry about the kingdom," he ordered, "…go get your Queen."

…

And so Dorian did.

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Sorry I've been gone so long!

I'll try and catch up lol


	7. I woke up and you were gone

**"I woke up. I woke up and you were gone."**

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Dorian awoke to a cool breeze with a frown. A frown that merely deepened when he noticed the balcony doors wide open, flapping in the early autumn gust. He closed them up with his magic, huffing at the thought that he was woken up this way. Wanting some warmth, the King extended his arm across the sheets but was confused when he found it empty.

"Witchling?" He muttered before he sat up and rubbed his eyes.

The spot next to him was cold and seemingly unused, very different from what it should have been, considering how he and Manon had spent part of the night. At the sight of the untouched pillow, Dorian made a move to grab it bringing it up to his nose, expecting it to have her scent.

Nothing.

There was no trace of her at all. Not even the soft smell of the hair product she used which he liked so much.

A hole opened up in his stomach as the weariness from waking suddenly left him. There was no cloak hanging on the metal hangers next to the door, no knives scattered on the bedside table, no Wing Cleaver on the couch. "Manon?" He called, but as it looked, she had left a while ago.

For some reason, the King felt compelled to walk to the drawers, opening the two he had separated for her. They were empty and dusty, like no one had used them for years. A hasty look to the wardrobe, where a fourth had been filled with her dresses, was in the same condition. Why would she take the clothes? She only kept the dresses because he liked when she wore them for balls or other special occasions.

"Manon?!" He said once more, louder this time, as he made his way to the bathing room. A single toothbrush, a missing towel, a lack of hair products next to the large tub. It was as if she had vanished. Vanished from his bed and his life, all in a few hours.

Panic made his magic flare out, and he ignored the icy footprints he left behind as he hurried to his door. The two guards outside his door startled, both bowing as they noticed what had caused the commotion. Dorian didn't waste time as he spoke, "when did she leave?"

The duo turned to each other and the one on the left, Altair, answered him. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty?"

"The Queen, when did she leave the room?"

The befuddlement on their faces made Dorian question his own sanity. "Forgive me my Lord, but no one except you has been in or out the whole day."

What?

What?!

Manon and him had walked through this very door, with these two very guards on this very spot only a few hours before. "You haven't seen Manon at all?"

The guard on the right, Birk, raised an eyebrow. "Manon?"

Dorian burst out running, going through the hallways and down two flights of stairs, ignoring the shouts of his guards and the yells of shock coming from the night staff as he hurled past them. Chaol jumped nearly a foot in the air when Dorian slammed his door wide open, the First Hand grabbing his sword as he sat up.

The King didn't care, immediately going for his friend. "She's gone."

Chaol groaned as he noticed it was only the King, but his eyes were narrowed with concern, the dark orbs taking in the craze in Dorian's eyes, the ice following after him. "What?"

"Manon is gone. We were sleeping next to each other and she just…disappeared. Everything is gone."

Chaol huffed and rubbed his chest. "Who is Manon?"

Dorian felt like he was about to faint, the world slipping out from underneath him. "The witch, Chaol, the Queen."

"Witch? Dorian, you're making no sense."

The King felt his gaze spin and he flung out a hand to stabilize himself. An urge to puke so strong overcame him, so strongly he didn't hear Chaol call his name, didn't see anything but black and red and white.

Dorian gasped as he opened his eyes, his arms and feet flailing in shock as he lost his sense of time and space. Only one thing cracked through his muddled thoughts, a name.

"Manon!"

"I'm right here. It's fine. Relax."

A sob of relief left his mouth as he turned to his side, reigning in the magic, focusing on that perfect face and the moonlight hair and those burnt gold eyes. "I woke up," he gasped, going for her, "I woke up and you were gone."

The hug came from her, and he held her tightly, taking in her scent and the smell of her hair. "It was just a bad dream," she muttered and he relished in the sound of her voice. In the feel of her body against him. She was here and it was fine.

"No one knew who you were," he told her, still holding on, "I thought I was going to die." It certainly felt it. To have his whole reality turn on him like that. It had been more than just a bad dream.

It had been a nightmare.

Her hands stroked along his back and he concentrated on the touch, closing his eyes as he buried his face into her neck. "Always so dramatic, princeling."

Dorian barked out a laugh, relief and love pouring out of him like molten lava. "If you ever feel the need to go somewhere in the middle of the night, at least let me know."

The witch inched back, but he tightened his hold, wanting to hold on for a little longer. She didn't fight it and he lay a kiss on the spot where her neck met her chin in thanks. "I'm not going anywhere, Dorian."

"I know," he muttered. "I know."

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Really enjoyed writing this one, hope you enjoyed reading, too!


	8. I can't breathe

**"I can't breathe-"**

* * *

Manon Blackbeak came to consciousness in a rush so intense she momentarily lost all sense of reality. A strangled gasp came out of her, immediately followed by a cough. She twisted on her side, puking out what seemed buckets of blue blood as she tried to gather her bearings. It was dark and rain fell in sheets. A dark haze also covered the ground, and after trying to wipe her face on some part of her clothing that was not wet or dirty she could finally tell where she was.

The memories assaulted her first, the battle with the ilken, the subsequent appearance of four Yellowlegs covens, two of Erawan's dark Princes…it had been a complete disaster and it was clear that their small army was not ready for such an attack, especially so when they had been traveling for days in bad weather.

The witch groaned when she tried to move and a hand to her thigh had her huffing. An arrow was embed deep into her leg, past her armor and leather. She had no doubt it was barbed at the tip, to make it more painful when it came out. Manon closed her eyes if only to give her head some time to concentrate, to calm down and formulate a plan.

Through the murkiness in her brain, she could still hear sounds of battle, screeching of ilken and wyvern alike, swishes and booms of magic. She was not safe here. She had to move **now**.

A soft whine caught her attention and the only reason she perceived it was because she recognized it.

"Abraxos…"

The wyvern heard her and she caught the whooshing sounds of his wings, as if he was trying to get up. To get to her. Another whine broke through, this one a little louder.

Since she didn't know the extent of his injuries she was quick to call him out. "Don't move," she bit, fighting against the pain in her leg. "I'll go to you."

A mistake, but she'd had worse. Something snapped as she sat up and her moan rode all the way to Abraxos, who she heard whimper in return. The witch placed a hand to her abdomen, but there was no blood or wound there. A broken rib then-or ribs, she wasn't sure. Hopefully, it would not pierce a lung.

She glanced around, noting the indent on the downed tree trunk next to her. It was clear now how she fell unconscious, considering her body fit right into the indent. Using the same log as support, Manon used her right hand to get to her feet. The pain flashed like hot iron fresh out of the fire, despite the fact that her breath came out in short clouds in front of her. But it didn't matter. She was upright.

Trying to avoid using her left leg, Manon limped toward her wyvern, the sound coming from a creek a few feet from where she'd crashed into. His head bobbed in obvious relief when he saw her and she stumbled into his neck in both an effort to remain standing and to touch him. "Not even a blast of dark magic can take us out," she muttered.

But Abraxos wasn't paying attention to her, even though his bloodied tail wound around her legs. Manon followed his gaze, suddenly feeling the temperature shift. It was getting colder. Which made no sense since there was still sometime before winter-

A cry pierced the air, a mix between a cackle and a screech. It burst through Manon's eardrum's, making her forget her pain and relief at seeing Abraxos. She palmed her body, three daggers were left on her form, Wing Cleaver was missing from its holster. With a cringe, she glanced at the arrow still protruding out of her upper thigh.

"Stay here," she ordered the wyvern and with the wounds she could see in the dark covering his form, he had no choice but to obey. Abraxos didn't whine, knowing they had to keep quiet, but his large head did nudge at her hand. "I'll be back for you," she whispered, "I promise." She didn't care if he understood, but her wyvern licked at her arm before uncoiling his tail.

Slowly, Manon limped toward the source of the unnatural sound, keeping as low to the ground as she could and palming one of her daggers with her right hand.

A scream shook the ground beneath her and a blast of magic followed it, making her cling to a tree to avoid being blasted back. The tips of her fingers went numb in the cold, but her attention was fixed in front of her.

She recognized the scream.

Ignoring the pain, Manon burst through the brush, laying her eyes on a small clearing of trees, all laying with their roots out against the tree line. She could recognize the Valg Prince from afar, noting the golden hair and dark collar on his neck. In front of it was Dorian, laying on his knees, his head in his hands.

A growl rippled deep in her throat as she noticed exactly what was happening, knew what the Valg Prince was capable off.

Another scream pealed out of Dorian and he lowered his head further into the ground. Bowing, the Valg monster was making him bow before it.

Manon's pain banished as she placed pressure on her hurt leg and ran into the clearing. The Prince turned to her immediately, but there were shadows under his eyes and his pale face was gaunt with effort. His gold eyes still narrowed at her, but the vision he sent was swatted away by her own pair. He realized too late that he was as good as dead, and Manon wasted no time as she tackled him with all of her immortal strength.

A freezing wind swept through them as the Prince released Dorian, but the Valg couldn't stop her as she struck her dagger into his neck, spraying black blood onto the muddy ground, and repeating the process until she was sure the abomination was as lifeless as the ground beneath it.

Manon breathed heavily while she dropped the bloody dagger, her other hand going for the arrow still in her thigh, not to pull it out, but to stop the pounding she felt coursing through it. But another sound mixed in with her own panting. She half-crawled half-walked toward the King of Adarlan, not caring that her hands were tainted in black blood as she made him lie on his back.

Dorian was gasping for air, his dirty fingers ripping into his throat as his wide blue eyes staring crazily into the sky, the whites fully visible and looking like they were coming out of his sockets. "It's okay," she told him, stilling his head. "You're fine now."

His hands closed around her wrists and his eyes turned to her, first in fear, then surprise, and finally recognition. But he shook his head and his whole body trembled. " _I can't breathe_ ," he gasped, " _I cant_ -"

"Look at me," she ordered, but her own voice cracked. "Look at me," she said again. He was terrified, but his gaze held steady. "Concentrate on my voice."

"Just take a breath," she added. "Slowly." The grip on her wrists tightened, but he did take in a breath. "Now, just breathe…you're okay, I promise, just breathe." The witch repeated the words a few times, counting down his inhales and exhales until the cold around them died down and his body finally stopped quivering.

The King sat up in a rush once he recovered, his hands still holding her own. "I went looking for you," he admitted, "I needed to make sure you were alright."

It was no time to berate him, but she still sent him a frown. "I'm alright," she muttered, "we both are."

He blinked and she wondered if the silver in his eyes was due to the rainwater. "Abraxos?" He rasped.

"He's fine too."

The King let out a tear-jerking sigh as he released her hands and took her against him. "Thank the gods," he sputtered and Manon patted his back.

"That hurts," she told him, after the hug went on for longer than she felt it was safe. They were still in the battlefield and they had to find a way to get back to safety.

"What? I'm sorry. Oh gods-you're hurt."

"We both know I've had worse."

"We need a healer."

"What we need is to move."

"Right. May I help you up?"

She nodded and he slowly got them both back on their feet, placing her arm around his shoulders in order for her to not lay weight on her leg. "Abraxos?"

"That way," she pointed.

And so they went.

* * *

From now on, I'll try to post more consistently on these drabbles so that I can catch up to what I have already written.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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